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Milltam Burr 



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WAS born into this world sometime 
during the day May 29th, 1831 to 
battle with the ups and downs, sor- 
rows and joys of life up to my 
present age 83 years. I have seen 
marvelous changes during my life in 
many ways. In the ways of living 
farmers produced everything that they consumed. 
Sheep were raised on the farm, the wool was spun 
and woven into cloth and yarn in the home of the 
family. In the family also the meat was consumed 
or exchanged with the neighbors, there were no 
meat markets or butchers' wagons going around. 
Many of the garments we wore were made of the 
flax grown on the farm, spun and woven in the 
house. There were no friction matches to start the 
fires. The only way was to take a piece of steel and 
flint and strike them together and produce a spark 
of fire to drip into some lint in a tin box. It often 
took considerable time and patience to get a fire. 
Oftentimes one would go to the neighbors and bor- 
row some fire, tho very seldom they got the fires 
that way. In my early days the cooking and some of 
the baking was done in the open fireplaces. At bed- 
time the coals of fire were buried in the ashes and 
kept alive until morning. Of course there were no 
incendiary fires in those days as it was too much 
trouble and the clinking of the steel and flint made 
too much noise. 

In those days there was not much style, but our 
footwear was strong and enduring and waterproof. 
The shoemaker went from house to house and made 
up all the family shoes, also the tailor did the same 
making the clothes for the family from the wool. 
There was more or less beef slaughtered in the 
winter. What was not consumed fresh was 
salted down for the spring and summer months. The 
hides were taken to the tannery to be made into 
leather to be used for the family shoes. 

The baking was done in brick ovens which would 
be full of bread and pies. The families were all 
large, both the rich and people in ordinary circum- 
stances had large families. Of course money was 
very scarce. I was as well pleased to get one cent in 



my stocking Christmas morning as children nowa- 
days are to get five dollars. A great deal that was 
produced on the farm such as butter and eggs had to 
be bartered away for dry goods and family supplies, 
butter about twelve to sixteen cents a pound and 
eggs ditto. Many a one parting with a silver dollar 
would squeeze it so hard the eagle would holler, or 
parting with a silver half-dollar, the Goddess of 
Liberty would turn pale because it had to change 
hands. 

The first of my remembrance was when I was 
about three years old I was taken over to Grand- 
mother Burr's on a home-made sled (no other sleds 
were used in those days). I was put into a corn 
basket together with another brother or sister and 
Father drew us over on the snow. Good old Grand- 
ma was glad to see her grandchildren. She had 
forty-nine of them and all but four were born before 
she died, they were my brother and three sisters. 
She was a very ambitious, heroic woman. When the 
town was burned by the British, after throwing her 
pewter dishes consisting of plates, platters and 
spoons down into the well, she mounted her horse 
with her first born child Thaddeus, nine months 
old in her arms, went down to Sasconeck, now called 
Sasco Hill, and got all their cattle out of the pasture 
and drove them up into the town of Easton so the 
British army couldn't get them. She then returned 
home to find all her house and barns burned up. 
There was a small house in back that was not burned 
and they lived in that for two years until they built 
up again. She had five grandsons born in one year 
that she thought a great deal of. Their names were 
John Morehouse, Morris Lyon, Lewis Jennings, 
Henry S. Burr and my brother David Burr. 

In those days of my youth there were no railroads 
or steamboats. The only way from New York to 
Boston was by stage coach. There was a steamboat 
that went to New York from Norwalk long before 
any boat went from Bridgeport. Stage coaches car- 
ried passengers from Bridgeport to Norwalk to go 
by boat to New York. Also one from Fairfield 
owned by George Sherman, grandfather of Mrs. 
Oliver Turney. 

The only light we had to light our houses to read 
or work by were tallow candles, oftentimes only one 
on a table for the whole family to read by or to 



study their school lessons by. Finally sperm oil be- 
came very popular, then followed kerosene, then gas 
and electricity. 

The people were very religious. The church held 
two services every Sunday, morning and afternoon 
and prayer meeting in the lower room of the old 
academy in the evening. I often attended all three 
services and saw some of the gentler sex home. 
Every person attended the services, both old and 
young, coming from Black Rock, Morehousetown 
and Holland Heights in all sorts of vehicles, some on 
horseback. One old bachelor coming from Mill Hill 
on horseback one evening, getting his horse ready to 
go home, found the horse's tail had been cut. It 
was supposed a certain lady had committed the act. 

I remember well such men as Capt. Gould Jen- 
nings, my uncle, a noble looking man walking with 
his foot stove in his hand to keep his own and his 
family's feet warm and also Judge Sherman and his 
wife coming to church with their stoves in their 
hands. The church was very cold, there was but 
one stove in the church, that was a box wood stove. 
It stood in the aisle near the pulpit. It was so hot 
you couldn't get near it. The pews on each side of 
the aisle were lined up with tin to prevent fire. The 
pulpit was elevated some fifteen feet and under the 
pulpit the library for the Sabbath school was kept. 
Dr. Atwater was the first minister I remember, he 
too, had a large family, mostly boys. On one oc- 
casion his wife could not make one of them behave 
as he ought to in the house of worship, so the minis- 
ter took him up into the pulpit. As the father was 
proclaiming the doctrine of the Bible in an earnest 
manner to his people, on looking around he saw his 
boy sitting astride of the rail of the pulpit. The 
church and vSunday, like everything else has changed. 
I cannot say it has changed for the better. The 
population of the world today is not as honest as 
when I was young. Sunday was very strictly ob- 
served by everyone whether church members or not. 
It commenced Saturday night at sundown and con- 
tinued till sundown Sunday night and then the re- 
pairing and the week's mending was done. I remem- 
ber well my father's sisters. Aunt Sturges, Aunt 
Esther Morehouse, Aunt Abby Lyon, Aunt Mary 
Burr would come in Sunday evenings and bring 
their knitting work and spend the evening, all living 
close by father. 



Fairfield had three churches — Congregational, 
Episcopal and Methodist. Bridgeport at that time 
only had four — one a Catholic. On one Sunday I 
walked to Bridgeport and went to all the churches 
including the Catholic, got my dinner at the Frank- 
lin Hotel. 

Bridgeport at that time was in its infancy, all of 
the business including dry goods houses was in 
Water street. One night a fire swept through Water 
street and burned up the dry goods houses. After 
that the dry goods houses or stores were built on 
Main street. Several of the old folks thought they 
were making a mistake to build there. Fairfield 
avenue was then called Beaver street, and Park ave- 
nue was called Mutton Lane. A man by the name of 
Beach had a dry goods store on Main street, now 
owned by Miss Annie B. Jennings which vv^as pat- 
ronized largely by Bridgeport citizens. 

In those days Fairfield was a shire town, the 
Court House was located here. Court commenced 
their session on Monday afternoon and continued 
until Saturday noon and then the lawyers would 
leave for their homes. Booth from Danbury and 
Belding from Newtown came and went on horse- 
back. There were but a very few lawyers in those 
days. I remember them all, Hawley of Stamford, 
Bissell of Norwalk, Chamberlain of Westport and 
but one from Bridgeport, a Mr. Dutton. He moved 
to New Haven and after that he became Governor of 
Connecticut. There w^ere more lawyers in Fairfield, 
five or six of them. There was but one doctor in 
Bridgeport, a Dr. Nash. 

There were several families of colored people 
living in Fairfield, a good, respectable class of citi- 
zens. Their names were the same as the old de- 
scendants, namel}^ : Sherwoods, Judsons, Burrs, Mal- 
by, Husted, Hyde, Sanford and others. I do not 
know whether any of them were slaves or not, if not 
they were descendants of slaves, as Connecticut was 
a slave state. The white people gave them their free- 
dom and some of them were given a plot of land to 
build a home on. Primus Burr's home was where 
Edward Randolf now lives. He was a great builder 
of stone walls. He built most of the stone fences 
around here. It was said he was a great lover of 
black snakes and ate their hearts and livers. He was 
buried on his homestead beside a stone wall that I 
own now. It is said that when he was lowered into 



his grave the black snakes ran their heads out of the 
wall and looked down into his grave. In those days, 
or my early days, snakes of all kinds like the birds 
of the air were more plentiful than they are now. I 
well remember seeing nine black snakes just after 
shedding their skins (which they do once a year) all 
curled up shining like glass bottles at the edge of 
some bushes near his grave. 

It was a State law to have two days in the year 
set apart for men to have military practice, in case 
of war they would have some knowledge of military 
or arms work. 

The first Monday in May and September was set 
apart for the drilling days. Of course all of the young 
boys and girls looked forward to those days of hav- 
ing a good time hearing the music, which was the 
beating of the drums and the marching and maneu- 
vering of the men with their guns which were flint 
lock make, which was composed of a piece of steel 
and flint striking together, producing a spark, light- 
ing some powder and off goes the musket and often 
it did not discharge. We young folks had a grand 
good time those days. I must not forget Uncle Kit 
and Aunt Dinah, colored folks formerly with Mr. 
Samuel Rowland. They furnished root beer and cakes 
or cookies on those days from the meeting house 
steps, beer three cents a glass and cookies one cent 
each and they were good. I don't think I have eaten 
any so good since. There was an Indian named Zike 
Pair, came from Bridgeport on all training days with 
his bow and arrows. He would stick a small stick in 
the ground with a split on the top and the people 
would put a cent in the split, he would stand off 
about thirty feet, fire his arrow, he was sure to 
hit the stick or cent (as they were called those days) 
and fall it to the ground ; of course he claimed the 
cent. He got a great deal of money in the course of 
the day and it made a great deal of sport for old 
and young. He was the only Indian around that I 
knew of. Later in the fall there was a general train- 
ing, all of the companies from every town in the 
county were ordered to drill in some one of the 
towns three days in succession. There was an im- 
mense gathering of the inhabitants to see all of the 
soldiers. Mrs. Maria Kelley's father was a General 
of all the companies in the County. Fairfield had 
two companies, the old and one new called the Frank; 
they wore handsome blue suits, hats with red 



feathers on them; they made a full showing. Burr 
Osborne on Osborn Hill was Captain of the Com- 
pany. At one time they all carried flint lock muskets, 
the old Company wore an}^ kind of clothes, w^ere 
not dressed up much. A good many of them liked 
their Santa Cruz Rum very well so their legs got 
tangled pretty well. The training day furnished 
great amusement for the spectators, one could see 
their sweethearts hanging on the fellows and taking 
in the sights and amusements. There was a big 
Northeast gale, the line storm in September 3 816, it 
changed the whole coast of Rhode Island and Con- 
necticut, it drove the beach inland on the salt 
meadow four hundred feet or more. It stopped the 
travel from Boston to New York one week, on ac- 
count of the trees being blown down across the 
highway. I often heard it spoken of when I was 
young, the same as we hear of the blizzard of 1888. 
It was a common expression years ago to hear of 
such a one or such an animal as "he is as poor as a 
church mouse." A little explanation why that phrase 
was used. When young there were more or less mice 
running about in the church during service time, they 
were poor squaney-looking mice who did not get any- 
thing to eat only Sundays. Of course, there were a 
great many of the congregation that came a long 
distance from the church, they brought their lunch 
or dinners with them as they stayed through the 
Sunday school services and afternoon service. In 
eating their dinners there were more or less crumbs 
dropped on the floor, the mice then got their only 
meal for the week. All the pews had footstools in 
them not only for foot rests but to keep the mice 
from running up their legs. Occasionally one would, 
generally the whole congregation heard of it. 

In my young days the minister's salary was small 
and always in the winter the Parish gave them a 
donation party. They always got quite a contribu- 
tion of various articles all useful in the family such 
as farm produce, groceries of all kinds, the farmers 
brought several cords of wood. They did nol have 
any coal in those days, and then the men would go at 
some time and cut it up. They called it a sawing and 
cutting bee, the ladies would go and prepare a din- 
ner for the men, the minister would join in and help, 
we w.ould have a good picnic time. 

Man}^ times the doctors had a donation to help 
them along as they did not have the practice as they 
do now days. Anything the matter now they go to a 



doctor or druggist; in those days every head of a 
family was its own doctor, mostly done with herbs 
of different kinds. They were always kept in the 
attic on the galaspate and collected fresh every year. 
I will name some of them : wild hyick, golden rod, 
boneset, catmint, pennyroyal, tansy, wormwood, 
stinkweed, elderblows, blosenes, and many others, 
all were used for dift'erent complaints, consequently 
the doctor did not have the practice, his was a starv- 
ing practice. 

In those days there were no steel pens, all writing 
was done with goose quills, all the school teachers 
had sharpened them or made them for the scholars. 
I can see now Judge Sherman sitting at his desk 
sharpening his quill pens. My first schooling was 
in the old bellows factory. My cousin Esther Lyon 
was the teacher. I remember at one time I suppose 
I was doing something I ought not to be doing 
which did not please her, she tied me up to the table 
leg. She sat beside it writing copy for the children. I 
drew the table away from her and the ink stand went 
off into her lap onto the floor. I got a double dose 
for that operation. The teachers had to write all of 
the copies for the children to write by ; they had to 
teach six hours a day, five and one-halt days a week, 
48 weeks in a year; there was nothing said about 
pensioning teachers in those days. They never got 
over $25.00 a month. The houses were of one style 
all over the town, all had a long kitchen, with a bed- 
room on the end of it. The kitchens among the 
farmers were used as a workshop, dining room and 
cooking room ; also the large and small reel was 
located in it for the spinning of the wool ar.d the 
flax. No dining or extension table, one large square 
table. Those that could not get around that set on 
the floor and ate off the stool ; they sat on or in the 
chimney corner. The fireplaces in the kitchen were 
very large, some would take in a four foot log. The 
hearth extended out into the room, the fact is, a 
small family could sit on it. 

I will relate a little accident that happened in one 
of the homes in the village. The father was sitting 
on the hearth smoking his clay pipe, his wife named 
Isabella. All at once the hearth and the old gentle- 
man fell through down in the cellar, the coals of fire 
falling on him. He cried out, 'Tsabell, Isabell." 
"What, my dear?" "I am in hell!" Some of his 
descendants are living here now. 



Barlows Plain was quite an attractive neighbor- 
hood when I was young, frequently visited by the 
people in the village. The inhabitants were farmers, 
a very sociable class of neighbors. Their names were 
Wakeman, Morehouse, Burr, Osborne, Sturges and 
others. There is a small brook on the east side of it 
called Barlow Brook and it is noted where a colored 
man by the name of Frazer was hung on a button- 
ball tree for murder. The tree was on a street after- 
wards called Gallows street. The gardens were a 
very important plot of land for the supplies of food 
for the kitchen. Not only were vegetables raised in 
them, but tansy and wormwood to put into their toddy 
to drink for their health. Also a bush of fennel that 
was used in cake and taken to church to be eaten 
during the service to keep them awake through the 
two long sermons ; also gourd vines were in every 
garden. They were used for many purposes about 
the kitchen. They were balloon-shaped with long 
necks. Cutting ofif the tops they made funnels to 
pour water or cider through. Cutting out the side 
it made a diper to drink from and cutting out the 
neck or handle it made a soap dish. In those days 
all soap was soft soap. 

I must mention one old-time custom which started 
long ago in my father's early years and that is pie 
night. The night before Thanksgiving all the neigh- 
bors and relatives living in Barlows Plains and 
sometimes friends outside of the neighborhood 
would congregate and go from house to house. The 
calls were quite short, but long enough to eat two 
or three pieces of pie. Sometimes we visited as 
many as eight and ten places during the evening and 
we had a fine chance to find out who were the best 
cooks. Often there would be twenty or twenty-five 
of us going the rounds, so the housewives had to 
make many pies in preparation. 

Burr Sherwood on Mill Hill, an old bachelor living 
alone, drew a long log to the kitchen door with his 
oxen, got it on rollers and rolled it through the door, 
the butt end into the fireplace and as the end burned 
up he would roll it along into the fire. By doing so 
it saved a great deal of labor of having to cut it 
up. In those fireplaces there was good cooking done 
in the Dutch ovens. In front of the fire were dififer- 
ent kinds of meats roasted better than we get them 
now-a-days and the pots and kettles hanging on 
the tramal attached to the crane to sling on the fire 



at the convenience of the cook, with vegetables and 
puddings. I must state one meal that was served 
twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. It consisted 
of an Indian meal pudding, corn meat and pork. The 
meal was put into a cloth bag, the top larger around 
than the bottom, so it could easily be slipped out on 
to the platter. The top would be tied very loosely to 
give the meal room to swell. The pudding was put 
on early in the morning, the meat later on. How I 
would like to eat one of those dinners now. A few 
years before my cousin, O. B. Jennings died be told 
me he w^ould like one of those dinners too. 

In closing this, the early settlers were noble peo- 
ple. They cleared away the primeval forests and left 
a goodly heritage in cultivated and well enclosed 
fields and productive lands. They lived honest, use- 
ful and happy lives. It is well to call to mind their 
high achievements and many virtues. I love to 
dwell on the tender recollections, the friendships and 
touching incidents of those early days and thus keep 
green the memory of those early and noble men and 
women. 

Great changes have come to New England, some 
have been a gain and some a loss. A heavy loss is 
the large crops of boys and girls raised in the olden 
times in nearly every family in every rural town. 
The children filled our school houses to overflowing 
and now there are too few American scholars in the 
school. The boys furnished help on the farm and 
the girls assisted their mothers in the household 
duties. The American population is thinning out in 
every farming town. 

The town has lost many of its industries, the 
little saw-mill, grist, carding and fulling and other 
mills are gone. The town has better facilities for 
transportation, travel and information, and increased 
in rural life. Whether more has been gained or lost 
is an interesting question, upon which the present 
generation may decide. 



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